The world of journalism is going through a boom time. Headlines and bulletins burst with Israeli rockets and child sex abuse scandals, social media has created a frantic bubble where, if you're not first, you're last, and 24-hour news means there has never been a more thrilling, rich time to be a reporter.

While the national outlets scream and shout, outdoing each other with every splash and breaking broadcast, spare a thought for those of us in local and regional media. There has been a bit of criticism recently directed at "the shires", looking at the supposed rise in "non-stories". You know the sort of thing: cat rescued from tree, police called to false alarm, misshapen vegetable … the list goes on. These kinds of stories have been fertile ground for the sneering derision of "media experts" for years – but now the shires are fighting back.

Dave Higgerson, digital publisher for Trinity Mirror, highlighted the issue in a brilliant blog post last month. Higgerson said the gentle mocking of smaller local news stories "goes with the territory", but questioned whether it could be doing more harm than good. "It's easy to take the mickey," he said, "but in each case, there's more to the story than meets the eye. Small news, for local newspapers at least, should be big news. If we're to maintain a relevance to a local audience, they need to know we're covering things that matter to them. And making sure we cover the 'I wonder what that was all about' stories is as good a place to start as any."

Over at Press Gazette, the infamously anonymous and forthright blogger known as Grey Cardigan strikes a similar tone, pointing out that "pictures of people pointing at holes or looking disapprovingly at offending dog turds is what we have to work with, our currency, our daily bread". This perfectly captures my own experience as a local reporter on a weekly paper in a quiet area.

As a journalist, your patch is your territory. If there's a story to tell, you go out and tell it. The national outlets have the whole world as their patch. There will always be a big story and, more often than not, an editor's job is to choose which ones to run with and which to ignore – whether it's I'm A Celebrity or the war on Gaza.

It is not the same out here in the sticks. Of course we get the occasional big story – most of which are immediately snapped up by certain national titles and published with their own reporter's byline – but we work hard for our news, and we take what we can get.

At the Dorking Advertiser in Surrey, we pride ourselves on informing our readers and bringing an obsessive attention to detail to every piece, whether it's 50 words on a church cake sale, a small fire above a town centre shop or an investigation into a mental health ward accused of failing its patients.

I have written about this subject before. At the risk of adding to the perception of journalists as narcissistic, inward-facing egotists, allow me to quote myself:

"We rely on our reputations as friendly, trustworthy people who tell the truth and do it honestly. A great story one week is all well and good, but break that trust by going about it the wrong way and next week that all-important source will take his or her information elsewhere. It can be something as small as a misspelled name in the bottom right-hand corner of page 32, or a slightly abrupt phone manner when taking a call from a disgruntled resident. One by one, they will start to think: 'This paper isn't for me.'"

There are, of course, exceptions. Three years ago, the Whitstable Times ran a 640-word piece with the headline "Whitstable Mum In Custard Shortage". It followed the story of a mum-of-three from the Kent town who "needed a tin of custard powder to top off her apple and blackcurrant crumble", but could not find one.